


Beacon Hills Gothic

by rewmariewrites



Series: Teen Wolf Shorts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: American Gothic - Freeform, Derek/Stiles if you squint, Farm Gothic, Gen, Gothic, M/M, Stream of Consciousness, The preserve, and derek grew up with them, honestly I dont know what else to call it, there are things scarier than werewolves, there's weird shit in the shadows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewmariewrites/pseuds/rewmariewrites
Summary: Growing up, there were many things Derek’s mother taught him to be aware of.“The Preserve is a glorified farm, cub, so you have to be careful,” she would say, holding him close to her chest, murmuring the words into his ear on warm summer nights. He would nod gravely and snuggle close, listening with rapt attention to the wisdom she imparted in hushed tones on those quiet evenings, when they were surrounded by family, when they were safe. She was speaking to the entire pack, but he was the one curled in her lap, he was the one who could feel her breath ghosting across his forehead.He still can, sometimes.





	Beacon Hills Gothic

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays 2k18 folks  
> im still drunk from dealing with family tbh but i wrote and edited this for you all so i hope its ok  
> i love you all thank you so much for supporting me this year <3  
> inspired by this post: http://rewmariewrites.tumblr.com/post/181407581902/a-guide-to-exploring-abandoned-farms  
> edit 08/02/19: added fic to 'Teen Wolf Shorts'

 

Growing up, there were many things Derek’s mother taught him to be aware of.

“The Preserve is a glorified farm, cub, so you have to be careful,” she would say, holding him close to her chest, murmuring the words into his ear on warm summer nights. He would nod gravely and snuggle close, listening with rapt attention to the wisdom she imparted in hushed tones on those quiet evenings, when they were surrounded by family, when they were _safe_ . She was speaking to the entire pack, but _he_ was the one curled in her lap, _he_ was the one who could feel her breath ghosting across his forehead.

He still can, sometimes.

~

“Make sure you have plenty of food and water, a change of clothes hidden in the roots of the trees, an acorn in your pocket, and an offering,” she would shout as they flew past her, intent on running in the light of Mother Moon but never quite so far gone that they would ignore their mother, their alpha.

Derek still sometimes finds acorns tucked into his pockets, along with shiny stones and bits of bark and leaves. He never figured out what exactly they were offering things _to_ \- he honestly thinks that whatever fae or deity hid in the woods of the Preserve died in the fire with his parents, leaving something far more sinister behind - but that doesn’t stop him from unconsciously tucking bits and bobs into his pockets.

Stiles notices - because Stiles _always_ notices things, especially when it comes to Derek - but he doesn’t say anything, and Derek can’t help but be grateful.

He wouldn’t know how to explain, anyways.

~

“Try and forget what the lake looks like before dawn,” their mother whispers, tucking Derek and Laura close to her chest. They are shaking and terrified, caught completely unawares by whatever inhabits the lake that is hidden deep in the Preserve. They were too young to know about the agreement it had with their mother, with their pack, but they were old enough to be punished for their unconscious insubordination. Derek still has a tiny scar on the skin between his thumb and forefinger on his left hand from its venom-filled limbs.

It’s one of the only scars he has.

~

“Never _ever_ go into the old shed on the south end of the property,” his mother growls, shaking with fear and from restraining the shift. She had just come back from searching for Cora, who had been missing for three days. When she finally gets control of herself, and her eyes stop flashing alpha-red, she murmurs, “Time passes differently there.”

They never question it. When Danny goes missing for eight days, _yearsmonthsdays_ in the future, Derek imparts the same lesson onto his own pack.

He is less gentle about it.

~

“If you’re ever hurt, _do not_ bleed into the dirt. I don’t know what will find you if you do, but it will not be me,” Talia warns, her hands ruffling, scenting, reassuring. They’re about to go on their _first ever_ run as fully in-control ‘wolves, and everyone can feel Talia’s concern through the pack bonds. Derek is pretty confused - he’s young, and doesn’t know that there’s anything but ‘wolves in these woods - but he listens and he’s careful. Michael - human Michael, three years older than Derek but _eons_ more fragile - bleeds into the dirt once, but nothing happens.

Well. They spirit Michael back to the house so fast that nothing has a chance to happen, but the shapes Derek saw in the shadows of the trees will haunt him for the rest of his days.

(When he sees them again, so many years later, when Stiles is on the ground bleeding pint upon pint of blood into the dirt, it’s all Derek can to do pick him up and _pray_ that he’s fast enough to avoid whatever the _fuck_ is out here waiting for sacrifices).

~

“Bring plenty of water - you don’t want to drink from any body of water inside the Preserve,” his Uncle Peter warns, almost too softly to hear, the day that Derek and Paige are planning to hike the old trails. Paige laughs, and resists, but Derek fills four extra water bottles and insists on carrying the pack they’re stored in. “Uncle Peter may be crazy, but the Preserve is more than it seems,” is all he says to Paige, and Paige laughs at him in turn.

Seven hours later when the trails have shifted and they’re lost almost beyond hope, Derek can see Paige watching him. She’s re-evaluating everything she knows about the Preserve, he can see it, but he can’t offer her anything more than a sheepish smile and that _burns._

(Stiles always packs five extra water bottles, and swears so loudly and impressively at the trails that they barely move anymore. Derek never has to smile, nevermind sheepishly, and it’s… nice.)

~

“Close every gate you open, even if the fields are empty.” His mother is furious, as angry as he’s ever seen her, even angrier than the time Cora was lost for _days,_ and though she is not facing any of them the entire pack (save Peter) whines in submission at her tone, at her words, at the wrong they’ve done. Laura and Thea cringe the hardest, though, and Derek knows they’re to blame. Deep, sharp claw marks score the side of the house, cutting almost entirely through the wooden siding, making violent criss-cross patterns that imply something tried _very_ hard to get inside the house.

Honestly, nothing has to be implied. They all heard the noises, the incessant, terrifying groaning and the sharp, grating sound of claws tearing through wood.

None of the betas leave any of the gates open - Derek made sure they wouldn’t.

There are scarier things out there than Uncle Peter, after all.

~

Stiles comes to him one day asking why a tree in the middle of the Preserve has no leaves. It’s the middle of spring, the season of growth, and this tree looks like it’s just been through the harshest winter. “There was almost _no_ life in it,” Stiles says, entirely confused, “it’s like something sucked it dry.”

Echoing the words of his mother, Derek whispers, “A tree showing the undersides of its leaves means a storm is coming; a tree without leaves means the storm has already come.”

Three days later the Alpha Pack claims their first victim, and Derek is filled with a sudden and unparalleled longing for his mother, and the comfort of her wisdom.

(Stiles is a close second, especially when paired with Lydia’s intimidating intellect, but they will never be able to match an alpha’s wisdom. And neither will Derek.)

~

“Sometimes the hills look like they’re moving. Beware, because some things don’t like to be disturbed,” Derek breathes, barely audible above the sound of his own heartbeat. He whispers it directly into Stiles’ ear, though, and he knows the rest of his pack hears, but when they slink into the shadows as one he is relieved nonetheless. He does not know _what_ is in the hills, he does not know _why_ it is there. He only knows that when this happened _yearsmonthsdays_ ago, his mother was terrified and his aunt came back irrevocably changed. He _never_ wants his own pack to suffer that way.

(Sometimes he catches Stiles looking out towards the hills like they’re a puzzle he _needs_ to solve, and Derek can’t help but growl low in his chest. That is a danger he does not want to risk losing his pack to.

 _A danger he does not want to risk losing_ **_Stiles_ ** _to,_ something in him whispers, but he squashes that voice down into the same place where he keeps his love for Peter and his grief for Paige.)

~

“If you are lost in the forest, walk in a straight line until you are free again. The trees and trails might make it look like you’re going in circles, but I promise you’re not. You need to ignore any music you might hear, and _get out,”_ Derek murmurs, face and voice earnest, both hands braced on Scott’s shoulders. Stiles - otherwise known as Scott’s _brain_ \- isn’t here for this particular mission, and Scott has never been wary of the Preserve in the ways he should be. By doing this, by speaking directly to Scott and pleading for all he’s worth that the dumbass understands, Derek hopes that Scott won’t come back too badly damaged.

Scott comes back eviscerated, almost torn completely in two by _something’s_ claws, and Stiles screams until he goes red, then purple, then white. Derek just sits there and takes it because even though he tried, even though he _warned_ Scott, he’s the alpha and his pack’s failings are still his fault.

His mother would have done a better job, but she would not have blamed him for failing. _That_ is what makes Derek almost cry that night, sitting vigil at Scott’s bedside.

~

“Finding skulls is normal - only start worrying when you start finding ribs,” he overhears Stiles tell Jackson during the month where witches are a rampant and _annoying_ problem. Derek wracks his brain, tries to remember whether he told Stiles that particular piece of his mother’s wisdom, but comes up blank. Even if he didn’t tell Stiles about the bones, the boy has always been particularly observant, especially when it concerns the Preserve.

(Stiles noticed the ways in which Derek paid particular attention to the bones that gleamed like cream in the moonlight, the way he examined those bones with sharp eyes, the way he chased the pack home like hell was on their heels if anything other than the skull lay on the ground. “Offerings,” was all that Derek had grunted, when Stiles asked. For anyone else that wouldn’t have been enough information, but Stiles has been doing this long enough to know _exactly_ what bone offerings mean, and who bone offerings are given to. The next time they come across anything other than a skull in the woods, he is the first to turn tail and run.)

~

“Don’t take anything from the house when you leave,” Stiles tells the pack on the first night they come to the burnt-out shell of the Hale house, “Just be grateful if you make it out alive.” Jackson scoffs and Erica titters, but Isaac, Boyd, and Scott all nod gravely. There are ghosts out here among these fallen beams, among the ash and the scattered bones, and they are vengeful and looking for blood. It’s part of why Derek brought them here. Honestly, it’s most of why Derek is able to keep going, to keep moving even on his darkest days. He _will_ get vengeance for his lost family, because no one else can. Well, Peter could, maybe, but everyone knows that Peter is _nuts_ and not to be trusted, not anymore.

Derek lets one hand linger on Stiles’ shoulder in gratitude. He feels the way Stiles leans into his touch, and relishes the way he can hear his mother’s voice echo through Stiles’ words.

~

Derek knows that the ghosts on this land won’t harm him, won’t harm any who ally themselves with the Hale pack, so long as they follow the rules. The rules are not written down - if they were once they’re long gone now, just another victim of the fire, another guilt laid at Derek’s feet - but so far healthy respect, quick reflexes, and stamina have done the trick. No one in the pack has died because of whatever’s out there, at least.

A couple of civilians have vanished, leaving behind religious artifacts and iron jewelry. Derek quietly adds those things to his list; he will learn from their mistakes. He does not want to upset whatever inhabits the Preserve, not when he’s the only Hale left, and while he doesn’t know if these beings will listen to _anything,_ nevermind him the ‘last Hale’ who barely knows his ass from his nose most days, it’s better than nothing.

The pack avoids going into stray buildings, avoids wandering at night, and always empties their pockets of things they do not remember picking up. They don’t know why they do it, they only know it’s important to Derek, but that’s enough of a reason for now. It’s not like Derek _has_ a better explanation, anyways.

(Stiles does, but he knows Derek doesn’t want to hear it, not yet. One day though, when Derek is ready, Stiles will give him everything he knows about the Preserve, about liminal spaces, about the Hales and what they left behind. Until then, Stiles will be there at Derek’s left hand, doing everything he can to keep the pack safe and _whole._

From inside the Preserve Stiles hears a quiet wailing, sees a shadow in the trees. He draws his blinds and turns up the volume on the TV. It’s only cougars, he tells himself.

There are no cougars in Beacon Hills, and there never have been.

Still, some things are worse than werewolves.)

**Author's Note:**

> pls find me at rewmariewrites.tumblr.com i only have 3 followers on that blog (its not my main one) and i love you all and thats where i post updates and stuff  
> i wanna interact with you all cause you're real cool and you're all so nice to me, always leaving nice comments and stuff


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